Friendships and Alliances, an X-Men Fanfiction
by Helena Colt
Summary: Peter Maximoff doesn't really feel at home at Professor X's. But it's when he finds Professor Alistaire that things really start to shake up. He is thrust into a whirl of battle and romance.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, silver-headed bitch!" Peter Maximoff turned as two mutants in his classes called out his name. "What?" He asked, totally at ease. "Come here! Second day?" Peter nodded. "Guess what you get!" Peter shook his head. "What?" He asked again. He turned ever so slightly, ready to run and sure that these obvious bullies were going to try and whale on him. "Get 'im, Bobby!" The one bully yelled. The other one, with brown hair and ice-blue eyes, walked up to him. "H-Hey." Peter said nervously. "Hey." Bobby smiled, and Peter relaxed a little-

-until Bobby froze his legs.

"Aah!" Peter exclaimed as his legs went numb. He knew and Bobby knew, he couldn't run like this. "Let me go!" He tried to run to create friction and melt the ice, but Bobby would just pile more on. "Let...me...go!" he insisted, but the other bully-Rick, he rememberd later-picked him and the twenty pounds of ice up and headed for the boy's lav.

"You...fuckers!" Peter coughed and spat toilet water onto the bathroom floor, shaking his soaking, dripping silver hair out of his face. "I'm done with this place!" He shook his head, drying it in seconds, and then angrily kicked the wall, not feeling the pain in his numb foot. His legs shook as the feeling came back to them; he could barely walk, let alone run.

"Peter? Peter, are you listening to me!" Peter daydreamed, clearly not. "PETER!" Wolverine sliced through Peter's desk with his claws; Peter was so startled that he ran to the back of the room, where he stood, shivering in fear. The rest of the class snickered-somebody slow clapped.

Storm, well, stormed into the classroom, drawn by the racket. She gave Wolverine a glare, seeing him standing over the desk, split in two jaggedly, and Peter, trembling in the back of the class. "Hi, Storm." Wolverine said, standing up straight. A few jokers in the class laughed, but a low-browed gaze from him shut them up. "What happened here?" She asked. Peter took a deep breath, trying to control the anger and hopelessness he felt. He closed his eyes, feeling vaguely lightheaded, and then ran out of the classroom-

-at normal, human speed.

The class stood flabbergasted, as did Storm and Wolverine. "Peter! Come back!" Finally Storm acted, and ran out into the hallway. "Please!" She saw just a glimpse of his shining hair before the large front door slammed. "Come back!" Storm felt a hand take her arm. "Let him go." Professor Xavier told her. "But, Professor-" "He'll find his place.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting down in a concrete alleyway, Peter chewed his stolen apple slowly, taking a breath in between every bite. Something was wrong with him, there was no doubt about that. His legs ached, and his chest felt tight and hurt whenever he ran-which he couldn't do for long periods of time. "D-damn!" His body shook as he coughed and choked on the bite of apple. Spitting it out and feeling a sharp sting in his mouth, he realized his tongue was bleeding-must have bitten it, he thought, head swimming. "Maybe you should try finding another school." A homeless-looking man walked up to Peter on the ground and held out a hand. Taking it and standing shakily, Peter scrutinized the man, and then, curious, asked, "What school? There's-cough-another one?" The hobo nodded. "Find Professor Alistaire." He started to shuffle away, and Peter went to follow him...

...but he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is Professor-cough cough-Professor Alistaire here? I-cough cough-need to-cough COUGH-" the large gates that Peter stood outside of started to swing open, and Peter fell to the ground, coughing. "Hey!" Peter heard someone shout. "Amara, help me!" Peter wrapped his arms around his aching chest as two people took his arms and heaved him to his unsteady feet. "Come on up, come on..." A girl's voice said. He tried to answer but he was so tired...he tried to walk but another coughing fit wracked his emaciated body. He couldn't feel his legs, only his chest, and his arms where the two people gripped him and held him upright. He suddenly couldn't think. He passed out.

"Huh?" He awoke on a soft couch, a cup of cold tea next to his hand. Coughing hard, but not as badly as before, he tried to sit up. He fell back, exhausted, but then someone was helping him, propping a pillow underneath his head. "How do you feel?" The girl asked. Peter realized that she was one of the people who'd helped him inside the day before-the week? He didn't know how long he'd been out. "Better I guess." He said. Reaching back, he realized his hair was tied into a ponytail. "Why is my hair...?" He wondered out loud. The girl stepped into his view, and shrugged. "You were overheating. We were trying to cool you off." He yanked the band out of his hair irritably. "Thanks. Where-" he turned his head to look around at what looked like a living room; a pair of couches, a coffee table, a tall dim lamp, and a TV on top of a cabinet. "-Where am I?" "Professor Alistaire's School for Gifted Youngsters. Much smaller population than the school you came from." The girl sat on the other couch, feet up on the table. Her thick-soled boots were leather. "How much smaller?" He asked, and coughed. "Calm down. You've been sick for two days." "Two whole days?" The girl nodded. "Yeah. I'm taking care of you." She motioned to the cold tea. "That'll help your throat." "It's cold." The girl snorted. "You're such a baby." She said, taking the mug. She held it over her left hand and clicked her fingers. They sparked, and a blue flame appeared in her palm and spread so it cloaked her hand. "Here. Careful-it's hot." She handed it back to him, and he watched the steam curl off of the liquid. "So, what's your name?" She jumped down onto the couch next to him, and rested her elbows on her thighs, looking at him with blue eyes. "Peter Maximoff. Or Quicksilver." He answered, trying to show off. "Yours?" " Amara Aquilla. Magma." Amara answered. "Cool." After a silence, Peter asked, "Why didn't I know about this place?" Amara shrugged. "I don't know. We have a small population, about 80 mutants. Well, now 81." She looked pointedly at Quicksilver. He nodded, and then coughed hard. "S-sorry." He said. "Don't apologize." She said. Her short blond hair glimmered in the lamplight as she sat beside him. "You were really sick. I was worried." Peter snorted. "Why were you worried?" "There are too few mutants as it is. And besides, you're cute. And your hair..." She ran her fingers through it and he just managed to stifle a moan. Her hand drew back-"I'm sorry." She muttered, getting up. "It's okay," he called after her, but she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

"How do you feel?" A boy asked him the next day. Peter sat up and groaned; yesterday he had thought he was getting better-today he had a throbbing migraine. "Fine." He lied. "Who are you?" "I'm Earl, but you can call me ear. Super-hearing power." "Where's Amara?" Ear smiled. "She's really taken a liking to you." Peter was silent, so Ear added, "She's in her classes right now." "And you?" Peter asked. "This school is different from Proffessor Xavier's. We don't have classes every day." Peter nodded, thinking, and then asked, "When does Amara get out?" Ear laughed. "Soon. I think she's taking you somewhere afterwards. Which reminds me..." Ear threw Peter some jeans and a familiar Pink Floyd tee shirt. "You were at my house?" "Professor X dropped them off. Personally, I think he knew all along that you'd be coming here." "Oh?" Ear nodded and then stepped backwards. "I'll leave you some time to get dressed." Peter nodded his thanks and pulled on the fresh clothes, relieved at their familiarity. Standing, and finding that he could stand, he tested his powers and ran around the room only a couple hundred times before he stopped, hands on his thighs, coughing. "Don't strain yourself." A familiar voice said, and Peter felt a hand on his heaving chest. "Amara." He said. "Hey." She waited until he could stand, and then sat beside him on the couch again. "Let's go somewhere." Peter was hesitant. "Where?"

"Snooping around S. H. I. E. L. D. Headquarters."


	5. Chapter 5

"There it is." Amara whispered to Peter as they stood across the water from S. H. I. E. L. D. HQ. Amara turned to Peter. "How do we get across?" She asked wryly. "I'll show you." He replied. Holding her neck, he ran across the water and stopped behind some bushes that made for good cover. "Wow!" Amara looked slightly disoriented, but exhilarated. "That's the coolest thing!" Peter cursed silently as he blushed. "Thanks." He mumbled. "You know-" Amara's face turned scared. "Sorry Peter-!" Peter felt a sharp tingling run throughout his body and him and Amara fell to the ground, tazered.

"Huh? Where-" Peter doubled over. His cough was back with a veangeance. When he could breathe again, he looked around; he was in a circular glass prison. Amara was in another one just inches from his, still unconscious. Using his hands to vibrate the glass, softly at first but then with more ferocity, he realized with a pang of fear that this glass wouldn't break. "Amara!" He shouted. He didn't know if she'd heard him or not, but her blue eyes fluttered open. They were wide with fear, and when she realized that she was trapped her body was engulfed in fire. She rose from the ground and flew around it twice before sinking to the floor. Amara? Peter mouthed to her. She saw him and went to the side of the enclosure. Her hands pressed up against the glass, fiery, trying to melt it, but to no avail. Peter sank to the ground, chagrined, and Amara did the same, mouthing I'm so sorry to him. "Mutants." The two mutants jumped as a man in a black suit walked into the room. "You've caused us a lot of problems in the past few months. "We have?" Peter snorted. Amara glanced at him. "You have." The agent answered. "My name is Agent John Coulson, and you will now be punished for breaking into the pentagon.


	6. Chapter 6

"That was two years ago! And no one even knows mutants exist anyways!" Peter protested. Amara was looking at him with a sort of admiration. "And, as we also technically "don't exist," we can do anything we want to you." Coulson snapped his fingers and something whirred over his head. He coughed again, hard, as something dropped down from a panel in the ceiling. Peter looked up at it and paled. "A sentinel?" He asked, shaking in fear and exhaustion. His throat burned. Coulson shrugged. "Well, technically no, but yeah. Have fun." The iron robot raised an arm and started to send plasma blasts around the tank. Peter ran from them, hugging the glass wall, trying to ignore the pain in his chest and hoping feverishly that his legs wouldn't give out. "Peter!" He heard Amara scream his name and he put his hand on the glass, the other hugging his stomach as he coughed and vomited onto the steel floor of the cage.

"Help him!" Amara screamed to no one.

And then someone was there. Amara yelped in surprise as a blonde-haired man wearing a red, white and blue costume pressed the button to release her from her enclosure. "I'm sorry about this." He told her, holding out a hand in greeting. "Steve Rogers." She shook it quickly. "Amara Aquilla. He needs help!" She went to the glass and put her hands against it helplessly, watching Peter get his chest grazed by another blast and fall to his knees, blood from his destroyed throat dripping from his mouth. "Peter!" He saw that she was out and forced himself to his feet as Steve hit the release button. Amara took his hand and pulled him out as the door closed again, trapping the lonely sentinel. Peter collapsed to the floor, coughing too hard to take a breath. Amara knelt next to him and pulled him up so his head rested on her lap. "Peter!" She was near tears. "A-A-" he tried to gasp her name but he couldn't take in enough air. "He's sick! He needs to get back to Alistaire!" Amara said. "We'll take the jet." Steve answered.

~I just wanted to mention, John Coulson is an OC.

Also, as always, thanks for all the reads!~


	7. Chapter 7

"Why are you helping us?" Amara asked Steve when they had safely gotten to the jet. Peter lay on the cool floor, head still on Amara's lap, curled into a ball and coughing spastically. She stroked his sweaty silver hair comfortingly as she talked. "I don't happen to trust John Coulson." Steve answered from the cockpit. "You're just kids." "T-T-!" Peter tried to speak again but coughed up blood. He moaned in fear when he saw it, and Amara felt his body start to tremble. "Hold on, Peter." She whispered.

"Thank you." Amara said as she helped Peter down from the aircraft. "Anytime." Steve answered. "Ear! Professor Alistaire!" Amara screamed as soon as the plane was gone. The Professor and Ear came running-as did half of the school. "What happened?" The Professor asked. "Battery!" A small boy ran forwards and placed one hand on Amara and the other on Alistaire, letting Alistaire see what had happened. "He is worse than before." Alistaire said afterwards, picking him up and looking through his blue eyes at Amara. "Come with me." He said, leading Amara and the unconscious, still-coughing Peter to the infirmary.

"Huh!" Peter awoke suddenly and looked around the white infirmary, wincing suddenly as his stomach growled. He knew he would be sick soon. "Amara?" He called, relieved to find he could speak and breathe. "I'm here." Amara answered, sitting on the bed next to him. "Peter I'm so sorry about that." "It's okay. It's actually the most fun I've had in-" he interrupted himself and groaned. "My stomach...I'm gonna puke..." Amara handed Peter a metal can and propped him up on pillows as he bent over it. "Alistaire said that might happen. It's just an after-effect of the elixir we gave you. Just take it easy." "Urghhh..." Peter gagged and vomited acid into the can, and Amara put a hand on his back. Her blond hair was tied up in pigtails today, he noticed off-topic. "Better?" she asked when he was done, taking the garbage can away from him. He nodded. "A little." Peter gave her a weak smile, but she could tell something was wrong behind it. "Do you want me to stay here?" she asked flirtingly. She blushed fiery red as he answered, "No, thanks." "Fine, then." She tried to keep her tone light, but just like she saw past his façade he saw past hers-he had hurt her.

He dropped off to sleep lonely, confused, and depressed.


End file.
